


Fluffernutter

by toffeecape



Series: Sandwich 'verse [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Comeplay, Comfort Food, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mirror Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Switching, Table Sex, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Bucky Barnes, Wall Sex, Weight Gain, chubby bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeecape/pseuds/toffeecape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky gets to be fat and happy and bang Steve like a screen door in a hurricane. That's it. That's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fluffernutter

Their first stop after they set foot on the landing pad at Stark Tower was Tony’s workshop. Bucky had actually dozed for much of the flight, and when he woke he looked, to Steve, shaky and vaguely nauseated. If he could have, he probably would have slipped off to be alone. Steve wanted to let him, but he also really needed to keep Tony in their corner if he could.

Still, watching Bucky grip his elbows tighter and tighter as the elevator descended, he had to give Bucky the out. “We can wait on this if you want. I’m sure Tony will understand-” Bucky cut him off.

“His girlfriend lives in the building with him, you said. I get it. I’ll let him check me out.” He pinned Steve with a stare. “Just- you be ready to take me down, okay? I used to- I hurt a lot of techs. I don’t do so good in labs.”

“Well then,” Sam said warmly, “it’s a good thing Stark doesn’t have a lab so much as a - well, you’ll see.”

It was true: Tony’s workshop didn’t have a single sterile white surface to be seen. The overall impression was more that of an auto garage from a science fiction novel than anything, all disassembled machines and holographic displays. Bucky relaxed visibly the minute they stepped out of the elevator, looking around curiously. When one of Stark’s weird little one-armed robots rolled up to him, he actually smiled.

“Would you look at that. Hey there, little fella.” The bot spun its appendage, making a whirring, squeaking noise, then reached towards Bucky’s metal arm and made grabby motions. Bucky lifted his hand and touched his fingers to the bot’s with a gentle clink. It rolled back and whirred louder.

“DUM-E! Can you not?” Tony popped up from behind an engine block. “Ignore him, he’s even less trainable than these two.” He motioned behind him, where two more robots, almost indistinguishable from the first, were holding a flashlight and a toolbox respectively. At his words they dropped both and rolled over as well. Tony roared, “Butterfingers! U! Do not crowd the veterans!” They stopped some distance away, appendages drooping forlornly.

“I don’t mind,” Bucky said quietly, and stepped forward to ‘shake hands’ with those two robots as well. One started jerking its appendage up and down, and the other vibrated its chassis a little. Tony smacked his forehead, leaving a large grease stain, cursed and picked up a filthy towel. He walked up to them, wiping his hands. Between the black muscle shirt and the engine grease, he looked about as unlike a lab tech as it was possible to get; it almost compensated for the way his sharp eyes were focused on Bucky like he could see inside him.

“The soldiers return! Welcome to Stark Tower; I’ll be your host for the duration.” He waved at the ceiling. “JARVIS you know, and these buckets of bolts have introduced themselves already, so.” He very deliberately held out his left hand. "Tony Stark."

Bucky, face carefully blank, shook Tony's hand in his metal one. "James Barnes." Tony didn't break eye contact, and dropped his hand the instant Bucky loosened his grip.

"You know why I asked you down here?"

"Yeah." Bucky looked at the floor. "You want to scan my arm." His hands twitched like he wanted to grab his elbows again.

"Au contraire, Bucky Bear." Steve rolled his eyes; Tony ignored him. "Call me crazy, but I want to have as little as possible in common with the guys you just spent six months wiping off the map. No, I want _JARVIS_ to scan you, confirm to me the hypothesis that you're free of booby traps - because again, I'd think six months in the wind is plenty of time for one to go off if it's going to - and then delete the data."

Bucky blinked. "You'd do that?"

"Your arm is a thing of beauty and a joy to behold, but I'm happy just beholding it until you _ask_ me to look it over and make suggestions." Tony tucked his chin slightly and raised his eyebrows. "Deal?"

Bucky blew out a breath and gave Tony a jerky little nod. "Deal."

Tony rolled his shoulders and turned back towards the engine block he'd been working. "JARVIS, would you do the honors?"

"Captain Rogers, Sam, if you would kindly step away from Sergeant Barnes, please? And Sergeant, please hold your arms straight out to your sides for just a moment." Bucky did so, stiffening when a lattice of light began to play over his body - his whole body, not just his left arm.

"Why are you scanning the rest of him?" asked Steve. Bucky answered before Tony or JARVIS could:

"A failsafe could be inserted anywhere. A bomb especially would be better placed anywhere _but_ my arm; the chassis is pretty tough." Steve shuddered. Sam winced.

The scan lasted maybe thirty seconds. "Analyzing," said JARVIS, and then, "Sergeant Barnes contains no implanted explosives, drug reservoirs, or any other devices identifiable as immediate threats to himself or others. Data deleted." Bucky let his hands fall to his sides, breathing a sigh of relief. Steve could see Sam relaxing as well.

"Good to hear!" shouted Tony over the sound of a grinder. "JARVIS can show you to your floor now."

"Right this way, sirs." They headed back into the elevator.

Bucky shook his head. "That guy is Howard and a half in all directions."

Steve laughed. "He is, isn't he! Annoying as hell sometimes, but Tony's good people." He sobered. "And we won't find a more secure location, or better access to resources - well, pretty much anywhere on the planet. Not that would be friendly to us. You did good, Buck."

Bucky smiled slightly. "Wasn't that hard. I'm even glad to be sure myself."

"Wait, you mean you weren't?" asked Sam. The elevator stopped, and they stepped into a long hallway.

"Mostly. I," Bucky swallowed, "I remember everything from when I was conscious, but I wasn't always conscious, right? I was pretty sure anything that could have been activated would have been within a month, but getting confirmation is - good." He was pale.

"Bucky," Sam said seriously, "can I hug you?"

Bucky looked surprised. "Okay?" Sam slid his arms under Bucky's and hugged him fiercely. Steve, unable to stop himself, wrapped his arms around them both.

"It's over," Sam said, "you're out. You literally burnt their places to the ground and pissed on the ashes."

Bucky managed a croaking laugh. "I did, didn't I?" He thumped gently at Sam's chest and Steve's shoulder. "Get offa me, now. I can hardly breathe." If anyone had suspiciously shiny eyes when they stepped apart, well, nobody said anything.

Sam turned and gestured at a door behind him. "This is me. You two lovebirds should be at the other end of the hall." He winked. "Welcome home, Sergeant." He went inside and shut the door.

Bucky closed his eyes. "The people you meet, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, and they continued down the hall.

"I haven't actually been in here before. Knowing Tony, it might be a bit, uh," Steve opened the door, "excessive," he finished lamely.

The apartment they entered was probably bigger than the entire Barnes family home. There was a _staircase_. The kitchen blended into a living room dominated by a - was something that large still considered a sofa? Up the stairs were three bedrooms, and two bathrooms. It was absurd.

Bucky bumped into Steve in the kitchen as they concluded their dumbfounded wandering around. "Jesus, Steve," he said, "what did you _do_ for the guy?"

"Nothing that makes sense out of this." Steve looked around. "Maybe - maybe the suites are all this big?"

"Or," Bucky pointed out, "he wants us to actually _live_ here, not just stay here for a while."

"Hmm. That could be."

"Either way," Bucky's eyes gleamed, "got our work cut out for us, christening every room in the place."

Steve swallowed. He could feel himself heating up at the thought alone, his heart beating faster. "Oh, yeah? Where do you wanna start?"

Bucky stepped into Steve's space, steering him back against the counter with his flesh hand on Steve's hip. "Mmm, right here, right now, baby." He curved his metal hand around the back of Steve's neck, pulling Steve down for a kiss.

Bucky was warm and solid against Steve, Steve's arms tight around his ribcage. Little grunts and hums rumbled in his chest, and there was a hint of metal added to the smell that was still, unmistakeably, _Bucky_. Here, with Steve, moving in together, _again_. Abruptly Steve remembered how Bucky had done this last time, hoisting him to sit on their little kitchen table as soon as they set their boxes down. There were field packs instead of boxes, now, and they were more of a height, Steve only bending his head a little to reach Bucky's mouth, but the excitement glowing in his belly was exactly the same, the way it made him want to melt around Bucky until they were one person.

He didn't realize he was moaning into Bucky's mouth until Bucky broke away and Steve's voice echoed through the suite. Bucky rested his forehead against Steve's.

"God," Bucky said hoarsely, "what you do to me, baby. Want you so much, every way, all the time." His hand slid to palm Steve's cheek. Steve turned his head and nipped at Bucky's thumb, then drew it into his mouth and sucked. The metallic tang of the plating and the oily taste in the joints made his mouth water, and he moaned again around it. Bucky jerked; his pupils were blown, just a thin ring of hot blue visible around them. He thumbed open Steve's pants and reached inside, massaging Steve's erection through his underwear. Steve spread his legs and Bucky snugged himself between them.

"Oh, doll, I can feel your panties gettin' wet for me," Bucky said, right in Steve's ear before sucking on his earlobe.

Steve let Bucky's metal thumb go to protest, "They're called briefs, Buck." He could feel himself turning from pink to red; his briefs were, in fact, damp all around the head of his cock where he was leaking.

Bucky shrugged and kissed down Steve's neck. "I calls 'em like I sees 'em, sweetheart," he teased, "and I seen how pretty your ass looks in these things, so I say their right name is panties." He plucked at Steve's waistband.

"Call 'em whatever you want," Steve groused, "just quit messin' around and touch me before I die of waiting."

Bucky laughed and sucked a ferocious hickey onto Steve's collarbone. "You got it, babe." He shoved Steve's pants and briefs together down Steve's ass, and shifted back just long enough for Steve to step out of them before he was crowding back in, right hand taking Steve's cock in a firm, hot grip and left hand sliding up under Steve's shirt. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his breathing under control.

"Baby, you're right on the edge already, aren't you?" Bucky sounded delighted. He jerked Steve steadily, rubbing his metal fingertips back and forth over Steve's nipples. Steve found himself clutching at Bucky's chest, kneading him fitfully.

"I am, yeah," he managed, barely recognizing the husky voice as his own.

Bucky kissed him so hard their teeth clicked. "Do it," he said against Steve's lips, "go over for me. Come for me, babydoll, wanna make you feel so good, lemme see it..." He sped up his rhythm on Steve's cock, and pinched one of Steve's nipples, and Steve went over just like that, arching against Bucky, coming all over Bucky's hand.

"Love watching your face when you do that," Bucky said, "ain't words for it, even when you've really got me going."

"Got _me_ going," Steve muttered. Ever since the serum, he almost never really came down from his first orgasm in a go-round. It was a more than fair trade for how fast he went off now, even if it did get messy.

Bucky chuckled. "I do, don't I?" He lifted Steve's shirt up and off, then skinned out of his own clothes, left arm whirring and stitches popping in his haste. Steve's dick went from half-hard to achingly ready again before Bucky was even naked. "I was thinking," Bucky said under his shirt before tossing it clear, "that next I ought to bend you over that table and fuck you. Whaddya figure?"

Steve eyed the combination kitchen island and table. It was made out of what looked like lacquered butcher block, and the table side alone could probably seat six. "I'm a bit heavier now, but so's this table. I figure yes." He winked at Bucky.

Bucky made a strangled noise and spun Steve to face the island. Then he reached into the centre of it, where a gift basket was sitting, and grabbed a slim green bottle of olive oil. Steve obligingly leaned forward and braced himself on the smooth wood, spreading his legs.

"Most beautiful goddamn thing, babe, seeing you opening up for me." Bucky spread Steve's cheeks and Steve could almost feel the heat of Bucky's gaze on his hole, before a cork popped and there was a glugging noise. Bucky's palm spread oil all over Steve's crease, and then his finger was on Steve's asshole, rubbing in slick, tiny circles until it slipped in easily. Steve huffed and rested more of his weight on the island as his knees went weak.

"Fuck, Stevie," Bucky's voice was hushed, reverent, "you're so hungry for it, just taking it in. You need it so bad, don't you?" He slid his finger in and out a few times, then added a second. Steve scrabbled at the wood when Bucky separated and wiggled his fingers, and balled his hands into fists when Bucky slipped in a third finger and drove them deep. "Tell me how you need it, love, let me hear your voice, c'mon Stevie, I-"

"Bucky! Bucky, please fuck me, please. God." Steve begged, then shouted wordlessly when Bucky gave him what he asked for, removing his fingers and fucking deep into Steve with his cock.

"Baby, baby, you're so hot inside, so fucking tight, I can't stand it," Bucky babbled, clinging tightly to Steve's hips with his oily hands and pounding into him with loud, wet slaps. Steve was pretty sure his eyes were rattling around in their sockets; his vision was blurring as Bucky nailed his prostate over and over. "The way you feel, Stevie, it's so good, feels like nothing else ever." Steve could only moan in response, tilting his hips to get Bucky another fraction of an inch deeper.

"Wanna do you on the bed sometime, sweet and slow, lick you open and fill you up and lick you out. Just need you so much right now, babe, can't wait, can't think, just- gotta- have you-" The rhythm of Bucky's thrusts was turning ragged, his breathless patter punctuated by grunts on each instroke.

Steve knew the feeling. He could barely hear Bucky's words over his own panting, whining breath, but what he could make out was driving him as wild as the thick, hot slide in his ass, the deep pressure on his insides throwing sparks to every corner of his body. When he came, it was as if everything coalesced for a single, shining instant low in his belly, before bursting apart again as he clamped down on Bucky's cock and he _wailed_.

"Yeah, _yeah_ doll, that's so good, you're so-" Bucky slammed into Steve so hard Steve's lower body was lifted off the floor, and groaned long and loud as his cock pulsed in Steve's ass. Steve's cock gave another little spurt at the feeling.

Bucky sagged over Steve's back while they both gasped for air. After a minute or two he planted a kiss between Steve's shoulder blades and pulled out slowly. Then he tugged Steve to a stand, turned him around, and boosted him right up to lie on the table.

Steve was still too wrung out to move. He let his legs fall open, let Bucky see. He knew what he had to look like: flushed and sweaty, cock and lower belly smeared and streaked with come, more come leaking from his asshole. Bucky stared at him with heavy satisfaction.

"You're a mess, Stevie." He slid his fingers through the come on Steve's stomach.

Steve stretched. "And whose fault is that?"

"Mmm, all mine, baby." Bucky brushed Steve's cock, and Steve whimpered as it twitched; it still hadn't gone down to less than half-hard. Bucky's smile was all teeth. "Wouldn't be right for me to leave you like this. Think I'd better clean you up." He bent over and started licking Steve's belly clean, looking up Steve's body and holding his gaze the entire time - except when his eyes fluttered shut and he moaned softly at the taste.

Steve squirmed. Bucky wasn't even touching his cock and he already felt overstimulated, especially when Bucky took his left hand off Steve's hip to stroke his asshole. He was - oh God - he was collecting his own come where it was dripping out of Steve, and _pushing it back in with his fingers_. He had to keep doing it, too, because he kept spreading his fingers apart and letting the come slide out again. The hardness of the metal in Steve's tender flesh made Steve moan, and he yelped outright when Bucky moved from licking Steve's abdomen to licking his cock. He was all the way hard again, but unbelievably sensitive.

"It's too much, it's too much," Steve said desperately, clutching at the sides of Bucky's head. The silky fall of Bucky's hair against Steve's hands was just another point of pleasure, and his whole body spasmed with it, hips first pressing his cock up against Bucky's lips and tongue, then his ass down onto Bucky's busy metal fingers. Steve wanted to howl with frustration.

"You need it, baby, you need one more, I can tell," Bucky soothed, even as he dug the fingernails of his right hand into Steve's hip and stroked his come especially deep into Steve's ass, only to stretch his rim open again right after. He licked a long stripe up Steve's cock, and Steve sobbed.

"I _can't_!" There were tears leaking down his temples.

"You _can_." Bucky took Steve's cock in his hand and slid him halfway into Bucky's mouth, snugging right up against the back of his throat, and then Steve did howl when Bucky hollowed his cheeks and _sucked_. He tried to pull down to get away from the sensation, and just pressed Bucky's unyielding fingers deeper into himself; he tried to arch up and was surrounded by tight, sucking heat. Then Bucky's fingers chased him up, fucking into his hole and stroking firmly over his prostate, just as Bucky started jerking the base of his cock and sucking even harder at the head.

Steve writhed for a long moment, caught between the two points of overstimulation, keening frantically as the pleasure built and built inside him, before it finally seized him and he convulsed, cock flooding Bucky's mouth and ass quivering against Bucky's hand. Bucky hummed around him, and very gently stroked inside him with his fingers, and Steve's strangled noises broke into a full-throated scream as he emptied himself completely.

When Steve could see something other than white shot through with coloured flecks, and when he could hear something other than rushing blood and a ringing in his ears, Bucky was leaning over him from the side, cupping his face and kissing him, just gently sucking and licking at Steve's lips. "Baby," he whispered, "c'mon back to me, Stevie baby."

Feebly, Steve kissed him back, and covered Bucky's hand with his own shaky one. Bucky sighed. "There you are." He slipped Steve a little tongue, and Steve stroked it in kind. Bucky broke the kiss and just looked at him, stroking Steve's neck with his fingertips, still touching Steve's cheek with his palm.

"That was amazing," Bucky told him seriously, "you're amazing."

"No, you," Steve mumbled.

Bucky grinned. "Good, you're arguing again. Think you can make it to the shower?"

Steve flapped his arm vaguely. "Help me up." Bucky obligingly tugged him until he was sitting, then took Steve's arm over his shoulders and helped him slide off the table. They made their way slowly up the stairs and into one of the ridiculously opulent bathrooms. They showered very inefficiently, tangled slickly together and making out as much as rinsing off. After, Bucky actually groaned with pleasure when he felt the plush towel against his skin.

"I know, right?" Steve laughed, "I did the same thing the first time I used one."

"I kind of want to wear just this for the rest of my life," said Bucky, staring wonderingly at his leg as he dried it off.

"Wish: granted!" Steve handed him a bathrobe of the same material with a flourish. There was another for himself.

Back in the kitchen, Steve pulled sandwich fixings out of the fridge while Bucky hunted up some cleaning supplies. He wound up going over the counter, island, and floor with some kind of antiseptic wipes.

"Damn sight handier than bleach," Bucky commented.

"You and my mom," Steve said fondly.

"Hey, after I started copying her at home, the little ones got sick probably half as often." Bucky had a faraway look on his face as he finished cleaning the joints of his fingers, then he shook himself and got up to make himself some sandwiches. There was no more conversation for a while as they refuelled.

They started to slow down after putting away almost two loaves' worth. Finally Bucky leaned back and said, "Dr. Banner is the one who turns into the - Hulk, you called him. Right?"

Steve's mouth was full. "Mmm-hmm."

"What's he like?"

Steve thought while he chewed and swallowed, then said, "Well, in lived years, he's the oldest human on the team. He told me once that he's always angry, but he mostly comes off a bit sad. Real quiet. Shy, I think."

Bucky's brows drew together. "Doesn't sound like the sort of guy to shoot himself up with another try at the serum."

Steve said, slowly, "I don't know the details, but I'm positive he was tricked somehow into doing that. You know how when we were flush, we'd come home with extra groceries by accident? I get the impression Bruce was that way with doctorates. If he really tried to replicate the serum, I think he would succeed."

"Hm. And the Hulk, he comes out when Banner's hurt or scared?"

"Or extra angry, yeah."

"And he's pretty much indestructible like that?"

"He fell 30,000 feet onto solid ground without a scratch, and as far as I've seen he's bulletproof, so, yeah." Steve peered at Bucky curiously. "Why all the interest in Bruce?"

Bucky fiddled with his phone and passed it to Steve. "I got this when JARVIS scanned me."

The text was from JARVIS: _Sergeant, while you are clear on the requested scan, I recommend a medical exam with Dr. Banner at your convenience._

Steve frowned. "Why would he want you to go see Bruce?"

* * *

"That," said Bruce, "would be because you're dangerously underweight."

Steve knew, objectively, that Bucky was thinner than was probably healthy. However, it was one thing to know it, and another thing entirely to watch Bruce look Bucky in the eye and tell him he was starving.

Bucky was none too pleased with the news himself. He hunched his shoulders, hugging his stomach. "I get by," he grumbled. Steve could see he was uncomfortable just being here; wall hangings and incense smells aside, Bruce's workspace was definitely a lab. Bucky probably wouldn't have gone through with the checkup at all without the assurance that he couldn't hurt Bruce.

"Not for much longer you won't." Bruce started polishing his glasses on his shirt. "You're losing muscle mass, James. Any more and the weight of your arm is going to start causing you very serious problems, worse than the muscle pain you’ve been ignoring." He put his glasses back on and pushed them into place. "We need to get your calorie intake way up."

Bucky scowled. "Yeah? How we gonna do that?"

"You should aim for eating something every couple of hours that you're awake; set a timer on your phone if you have to. Keep easy, tasty foods on hand. Anything you like in your suite we can stock in the common area, and vice versa - JARVIS employs an excellent grocery delivery service." Turning, Bruce opened a drawer under his lab bench, and removed a bulk box of granola bars. “Uh, the Other Guy can run up quite a tab. I go through a lot of these; they’re pretty good. Here.” He offered the box to Bucky, who hesitated, then uncrossed his arms and took it.

“Thanks, doc.”

Bruce smiled. “You’re welcome, James. Oh, also, I don’t know if anyone told you, but tomorrow night we’re having a group dinner in the common area. We do it every Sunday - everyone who’s around and wants to come by.”

“We know,” Steve said. “Sam told us.” Sam had a major thing for feeding people; he’d been practically bouncing on his toes when he ordered Steve and Bucky to show up.

"Well, I'll see you then."

As soon as the lab door shut behind them, Steve rounded on Bucky. "Ignoring pain?"

Bucky gave him an arch look as they started making their way back to their apartment. "Don't even start with me, pal. I got a list as long as my arm of times you didn't tell me something was wrong. And those are just the times I found out."

"I'm no kind of role model for this stuff, Buck."

Bucky sighed. "Don't I know it. Actually, some things make more sense now. You weren't always lying, exactly, were you? Sometimes you just-"

"Forgot." Steve deflated. "Because it got to be normal."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. But - it _has_ been getting worse. I'm not on the run anymore. Time to bulk up," he said firmly.

* * *

“So, usually Sunday dinner involves everybody making a big batch of some dish or other, like a potluck except with the cooking happening right here,” explained Clint. “It ends up being really heavy on entrees and desserts, which is fine since those make the best leftovers. _However_ , your buddy, Wilson? Has been, shall we say, _decompressing_ since the three of you got back from your Eurotrip two days ago.”

“Which means?” Steve asked.

“Pie,” Clint said simply, stepping aside and gesturing to the island in the middle of the communal kitchen. There were… really a lot of pies. Some were covered in plastic wrap; others were not. Two were steaming on cooling racks. Sam was at that very moment pulling what smelled like a huge chicken pot pie out of the oven.

“You actually did it,” Bucky said wonderingly.

“I said I would,” replied Sam. He had a splotch of flour on his nose, and a few more on his apron. “I said relaxing after getting you two home safe would take eight to ten pies. Turns out it was nine, plus a few hours of running.” Sam set the last pie on a rack, hung up the potholders and apron, and kicked back with a beer. He did look supremely relaxed.

“So,” said Tony, “pie: it’s what’s for dinner. What goes with pie?”

“Vegetables!” said Bruce. “Gentlemen, may I present: the crisper.” Tony barked a laugh; Clint held out his index fingers in a cross.

Steve was put to work scrubbing, peeling, and chopping. Bucky expressly forbade him to apply heat to anything.

In no time at all they had some nice roasted sides and a massive salad to go with the four savoury pies. Miss Potts arrived, looking as ruffled as she ever did (not very), just in time to be greeted with a kiss from Tony and sit down with the rest of them.

Bucky still made a point of trying a very small portion of a food before trusting a full helping to agree with him. The drawbacks of this were magnified when there was more than one dish on offer. Steve was almost full by the time Bucky finished waiting several minutes between a single bite of each item on the island, and he'd attracted enough attention that he wound up explaining himself.

"Nothing's made me sick in a while, but I got _so_ sick at first. I can't shake the habit." Bucky looked longingly at his giant slice of bacon mushroom quiche, waiting for some internal all-clear to dig in.

Tony pointed at him with a honey-glazed carrot on a fork. "What about tracking ingredients?"

"Right, because making it _more_ complicated is just what I need." Bucky started eating the quiche like it was going to run away from him if he let it sit there any longer.

"Let JARVIS do it. He's all _about_ details. Anything you tried tonight cause a problem, Barnes?"

Bucky stared at Tony like he couldn’t quite believe he was for real; Steve knew the feeling. "I'm still sitting here instead of holed up in the bathroom, so, no."

"Wilson, you made this feast here in the tower, right?"

"Yeah..." Sam’s eyebrows said that he thought Tony was a bulldozing prick, but he was willing to see where this went. He and Steve spent a lot of time together, looking for Bucky. Steve could totally read his eyebrows now.

"JARVIS, new file, authorized user James Barnes. Log every ingredient used tonight as safe." Tony bit into a garlic green bean triumphantly.

JARVIS said, "128 ingredients logged, sir."

Bucky blinked. He worked his way through a slice of salmon tourtière, then said, "JARVIS, do you remember the jalapeño mac and cheese Sam made in Germany?"

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes. Shall I log those ingredients as well?"

"Yes, please." Bucky got up and took slices of chicken pot pie and spicy bean pie. When the conversation around the table moved on, he turned to Steve and said in an undertone, "Ain't this something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"The future. We're really living in it. A real AI, like something outta the books we used to read. I can't recommend how we got here, but _being_ here is pretty keen." The last time Steve saw that exact gleam in Bucky's eye, they were at the Stark Expo. Steve had been so selfish that night, too eaten up with bitter, frustrated pride to see past the end of his own nose. Looking back, he wanted to shake some sense into his younger self, tell that kid to go and cherish Bucky's last evening before he shipped out. He couldn't do that, but he could, for once, be smart enough to cherish what was in front of him.

"Yeah," he said softly, and thought it _was_ pretty amazing how JARVIS was a computer and a person both, and how much more amazing to be sharing this future with _Bucky_ , and tried to let these thoughts show on his face. "It really is something else."

* * *

The dessert pies almost did Steve in. An hour after dinner ended, he was sprawled at his and Bucky’s kitchen table, trying to find it in his heart to regret the blackberry. Or maybe the strawberry rhubarb. He would insist unto death that it really had been necessary to eat exactly that much of both the chocolate and salted caramel tortes; he was just mildly concerned that it really _would_ be unto death. Maybe what he regretted was not getting a proportionately bigger stomach to go with his bigger body. Bucky was sitting a little more carefully, picking feebly at a final sliver of ginger apricot.

"You're really jumping into this with both feet," Steve observed. After his warning from Bruce, Bucky had determinedly plowed through extra meals yesterday and earlier today.

Bucky shrugged. "Eating better was always on the list. This just bumped it up."

"The list, what list? I thought we finished your list in Siberia."

"Oh, we did. This is a more fun list: Things That Would Make My Handlers Shit Themselves Sideways." He savoured another tiny bite of pie with hooded eyes. "Eating like a king while they rot in their graves is right up there. I should’ve ranked this higher from the start."

And really, was it any wonder that Steve had been so lost in this century without this man? This particular man, with this exact soft scratch in his voice when he spoke quietly, and this precise bone-deep streak of calm defiance. Just being around him made something loosen and warm in Steve's chest, some part of him sighing, _Oh. There you are_.

He didn't say any of that, though. Instead he hooked a foot behind Bucky's calf, cleared his throat and said, "Where does getting loved up by Captain America fall on this list?"

Bucky grinned. "Number one with bells on. No gymnastics right now, though, yeah?"

"God," Steve groaned, "if I try anything more than shuffling to the couch and making out with you, I may actually die."

Of course, once Steve was there, nestled on top of Bucky (recliners and restraints were out for life, but Bucky said a lapful of Steve was nothing but good in his head), kissing slow and wet, feeling Bucky’s heartbeat against his chest, smelling their shampoo in Bucky's silky hair... Well. He got a second wind.

The next time their lips parted with a soft smack, Steve murmured, “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky looked half-asleep, a blissful curve to his lips. “Hey.”

“I think I got a little space left after all. And I got a hankering for… sausage.” Steve paired this with the most outrageous leer he could manage, but it didn’t stop him turning bright red at his own corny line.

It was worth it, though, when Bucky burst out laughing. “Jesus Christ, that’s terrible," he wheezed, wiping away tears of mirth, "That’s worse than one of mine.”

"Yeah, yeah. So, whaddya say?"

Bucky grinned. "Suck my dick, Rogers."

Steve kissed him once more, then licked wetly at the corner of Bucky's jaw until Bucky sighed. He rucked up Bucky's shirt; Bucky assisted by arching his back, humming appreciatively. Steve moved down to Bucky's nipples and spent a long time there, suckling the little nubs and rolling them in his fingers, stroking over Bucky's chest and being deliberate in his inclusion of the scarred margin of the metal arm. He stayed there until Bucky was squirming under him, trying to rub his erection against Steve's chest. He stayed there until Bucky’s little grunts and moans flowered into speech:

"Oh, ohh, oh - baby. Baby, please go down on me."

There it was. Steve grinned and started kissing his way down Bucky's flat - yes, too flat, hell and damn - stomach. Bucky encouraged him the whole time, unable to stop the patter of hot, eager nonsense once it started.

"Damn, doll, your mouth is incredible. Everywhere you're kissing me just lights me up like Christmas."

Steve groaned. Bucky's voice lit him up too, the helpless way he spilled out sweet talk getting under Steve's skin like almost nothing else. He buried his mouth in the crease beneath Bucky's hipbone where it disappeared under his waistband and sucked viciously, rolling his palm over the bulge in Bucky's pants.

Bucky clutched at Steve’s shoulders. "Ah! Yeah, mark me up, babe, love it when you do that."

Steve chuckled. "You love it when I do anything." He opened Bucky's fly and yanked his pants down, and had to open his own and give his dick a hard squeeze at the sight of Bucky's cock, with its rosy flush, and plummy head, and tracery of dusky blue veins.

"I do, that's a true fact, I - oh, _babydoll_ ," Bucky crooned, hips twitching, as Steve engulfed the head of his cock. "Oh, you're such a peach. Most delicious damn thing, never felt anything as sweet as yo-oo-u!" He yelped and stuttered when Steve tongued his slit. "Stevie," he panted, "baby, your mouth is too hot to be real, it's like a goddamn oven, darlin’, stick a fork in me, I'm done."

Steve started to bob his head on Bucky's shaft, lightly jostling his balls with one hand and jacking himself with the other. He was grateful for the strength to hold the awkward position, and for the absurdly huge sofa to fit themselves on.

Bucky was starting to shine with sweat, his hips rolling erratically, his voice going hoarse. "It's so good," he rasped, "so good, Stevie, you're amazing, I can't stand it." Steve could feel Bucky quiver every time he took Bucky's cock deep, pressing the underside tenderly with the flat of his tongue.

Bucky started to breathe in shallow huffs that meant he was right on the edge."I'm close, love, I'm so close, you're gonna make me, I - I - ah-ah-ahhgod _Steve_!" he groaned as he came, sounding astonished and delighted. Steve had half a mind to swallow him right down, but he knew Bucky loved to taste himself in Steve's mouth after. Truth be told, the taste in and of itself didn't do much for Steve, but what it _meant_ had him fisting his own cock for a few jittery strokes and then coming hard in his pants, forehead pressed into Bucky's belly.

Bucky's voice was a gravelly wreck. "Goddamn. Goddamn, babe, did you just come from sucking me?"

"Mmm." Steve sagged into Bucky and planted a kiss on his navel. He tongued it lavishly, and Bucky chuckled.

"Get up here, you big punk." Steve went, and they wound up in the same position they started in, albeit a lot sweatier and stickier, with Bucky licking every trace of himself out of Steve's mouth, shivering with aftershocks as he did it.

* * *

The next morning, Steve had just heated up some leftover quiche a la Falcon when Bucky stumbled out of the bedroom.

"Morning. Want some of this?"

Bucky took one sniff of the savoury mess and paled. "Too early. Save me some for later." He was just reaching into the pantry for some cereal when the doorbell rang. “Who the hell is visiting this early?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sirs,” said JARVIS. He sounded… embarrassed?

“Oh my God,” said Bucky at the door. He stepped aside, and one of the robots from Tony’s workshop rolled in, clutching a box in its appendage. The other two followed it, holding grocery bags.

“DUM-E, Butterfingers, and U have _insisted_ on bringing you a housewarming gift,” said JARVIS, “in person. So to speak.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of them,” said Bucky, sounding thoroughly charmed. “What is it?” He took the box and opened it. “A blender? Thanks! What have you two got?” He looked at the grocery bags.

“They wish to show you how to make the same smoothies they make for Sir,” sighed JARVIS.

“That sounds just about perfect,” said Bucky, “I was wondering what to have for breakfast.”

The blender turned out to be a deluxe monstrosity with a 2-horsepower motor and thick, razor-sharp blades. The two robots who brought groceries dropped yogurt, nuts, greens, fruit, and ice into it, while the one who brought the blender stroked Bucky’s metal arm and made revving sounds. After thirty horribly noisy seconds of operation, Bucky was slurping at a glass of bright green sludge. Steve just watched the proceedings, bemused.

“That was the best cooking lesson I’ve had this century,” Bucky said. The bots waggled their ‘fingers’ and whirred cheerfully.

“They wish you to know that they appreciate your politeness, and should you ask them to make more in the workshop, they will never leave the lid off and spray you.”

“I might just do that. See you later, guys!” The bizarre little procession rolled back out the door.

Bucky sat down at the kitchen table beside Steve, sipping on his smoothie with a huge smile on his face. “That,” he pronounced, “is the cutest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Is that stuff actually any good?”

“Yeah! Try some.” Bucky handed the glass to Steve. It tasted way better than it looked - tart and sweet and fresh, like a really nice sorbet. Impressive, considering the thing was about fifty percent leaves. He could see why Bucky liked it. "You always did have a real sweet tooth first thing in the morning."

"Mmm-hmm. Talk to me in a couple hours and I'll be all about eggs and bacon. Not so much right now." Bucky took the concoction back. "So, I'm thinking today's the day we check out that gym."

* * *

As it turned out, the gym was extremely well-designed. Steve wasn't surprised - design was Tony's specialty, after all - but he was still impressed. Even he and Bucky were able to put together some weights that were actually challenging to lift, and there was a vertical obstacle course that, with a few modifications, could be very satisfying. Steve thought the punching bags still might not survive a _really_ bad mood, but they were far sturdier than the hapless things he'd whaled on when he first came out of the ice.

He and Bucky were both rank and sore when they finished testing everything out, a process that took all afternoon. They split into both bathrooms when they got back to their apartment for more thorough showering. Steve finished his, and came back into their bedroom (the one Bucky said had both the best sightlines out, and worst sightlines in) to find Bucky naked, frowning at himself in the full-length mirror.

The thing was, when Steve looked at Bucky’s body, he didn’t just see his body; there was a kind of overlay of how he felt about Bucky. He saw Bucky’s scars and thought about the horrific pain he went through, and his relentless will to survive. He saw Bucky’s corded muscles and thought about the brutal grace that was carved into sharp relief, and the implacable reckoning he brought to bear on everyone who did the carving, was still aiming to bring on everyone who thought the world needed to be trapped and unmade. Seeing like this, it ate up the distance needed to register the tight, dry way his skin clung to his muscles without any padding in between, to count far too many visible ribs and vertebrae on his back.

Bucky squinted critically as he turned and looked over his shoulder, then pivoted back to face himself and poked at his shrunken stomach. Steve thought Bucky either had a similar overlay problem when he saw himself, although probably a less admiring one; or, more likely, he’d been so focused on his goals that he’d been ignoring his body completely.

Steve came up behind him and laid his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, lifting his toweled-dry hair to kiss the back of his neck. “I’m really glad you went and got a checkup from Bruce. I don’t know if I would have seen in time, what you needed, how to take care of you.”

Bucky scowled. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I want to.” Steve kissed higher, right at Bucky’s hairline. It grew thick and incredibly fine; Bucky used to tip the barber extra because it took so long to cut. In this century, working up to anything more elaborate than chopping an inch or two off the end of his own ponytail was probably pretty low on Bucky’s list. “Besides, I know a little about how it is. Remember that time I fainted right as we finished our mission, and you and Dugan had to carry me back to camp?”

" _And_ Jones, _and_ Morita, you big palooka. You bet I remember. I will until the day I die,” Bucky growled. “Bet I dreamed about it in cryo. My _ghost_ will not be over that.”

“Well, it happened a couple of times after I got outta the ice, too, even neck-deep in food as far as the eye can see. That ever happen to you?”

“No,” Bucky admitted.

“Then you’re already ahead of me there. And I ain’t got everything you went through on top of it.” Steve set his chin on Bucky’s metal shoulder, peering at his own face from its new height. “You grow up knowing yourself one way, and then a big change happens - it takes some getting used to. It’s been five years for me, and I still do a double-take when I look in the mirror sometimes.”

Bucky tipped his head back to rest against Steve’s shoulder, looking down his nose at their reflection. Steve’s bulk was visible all around the edges of Bucky’s frame, at least above the waist; for whatever reason, Steve’s hips barely grew at all, and even now, Bucky had more muscle in his thighs. “Yeah?” he drawled, “Get in line.” He reached back with his right hand and cupped Steve’s hip, snaked around farther with his left and dipped below the towel to stroke the crease of Steve’s ass. Steve made a surprised grunt. “You barely look at yourself; I been making goo-goo eyes at you since the '30s.” Hummingbird-quick, he darted backwards under Steve’s arm and shoved him gently until Steve’s hands were braced against the mirror. “And then I had to get used to all _this_ in the middle of a war zone.” He ran his hands up and down Steve’s sides, and Steve shivered.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what’d you think?” Bucky's head in the mirror bowed as he looked Steve over. Steve knew, or guessed, that Bucky couldn't care less about the size or the strength, that he'd known Steve would only use those to get in bigger fights. Bucky seemed to be going with the game, though, because what he said was:

“Well, as I recall, I spent as much time as I could get playing with your sweet new set of titties.” Bucky rolled his weight onto his toes so he could see more over Steve’s shoulder, in a reversal of their earlier positions. He reached around and cupped Steve’s pecs, thumbing his nipples. Steve could see the goddamn blush racing down his chest at Bucky’s words.

“Ain’t a dame, Buck,” he mumbled.

“No you ain’t, but these are for sure titties,” Bucky declared. “I seen the way they bounce when you run. Helps that you wear the same size shirts as before - used to be too baggy. Now some might say they’re too tight. Not me.” He rubbed and stroked the rounded muscles, tweaked Steve’s nipples where they were hardening to dark pink points. "Gorgeous rack like this is a gift, doll; mighty nice of you to share it with the world." Steve couldn’t hold back a rumble of embarrassed pleasure.

Bucky's left fingertips abandoned their work to seek out Steve's apical pulse, finding it as unerringly on Steve's broad chest as he learned to on Steve's narrow one. His right hand flattened against Steve’s ribs, rising and falling with his quickening breaths.

"Someday," Bucky said, suddenly solemn, "I wanna sit down with a stethoscope and just listen to your new heart and lungs. Those are straight-up miracles; the old ones were killing you. The first chance I got I thanked God on my knees like a kid, that you weren't going to die of fever, or flu, or pneumonia, or just a bad asthma attack with no one around to help you. That if you survived the war, you might even live to get old."

"Bucky," Steve whispered. His eyes in the mirror were wet.

Bucky shook his head. "Where was I?" He slid his hands up and along Steve's arms, coming to rest over the backs of Steve's hands where they were flattened against the mirror. "Love your big hands and feet, same as ever. You just finally grew into ‘em." He squeezed the hot spots on the insides of Steve's wrists, and Steve whimpered and widened his stance, revealing a couple more inches of Bucky's reflection. Bucky smiled.

"Speaking of things you grew into, baby, there's this guy." He reached down to Steve's waist and untucked the towel, and Steve's cock sprang up against his belly. "Fills up faster, goes off easier, but it's the same heat you were always packing."

"Got a little thicker, I thought," Steve said, arching his back as Bucky stroked his length, just a casual, friendly touch, so knowing.

"Nope. Just gets thick as it's gonna sooner than before. Lucky break for me; any bigger and it'd be a problem, sweetheart." He licked his lips slowly, exaggerating for Steve in the mirror.

" _Jesus_ , Buck!” Bucky was so - outrageous. He was putting on a show for Steve, but the show _was_ Steve? He wasn’t used to seeing himself like this, pink all over, hard and panting. He’d lost track of how he got from kissing Bucky’s neck to - this.

Bucky did this kind of thing a lot, when they were together: found ways to keep Steve just a little off-balance, keep him caught up in Bucky’s wake. Steve was self-aware enough to realize their usual dynamic was Bucky following Steve, usually into danger, usually complaining about it. Not here, though. Here, mostly, Steve yielded.

He yielded when Bucky let go of his cock in favor of stroking over Steve’s back, dragging his metal thumb down the cleft of his spine. “I like your new back, too - I know the old one hurt you pretty bad, babe, more than you let on.” His metal fingers whirred gently as they spread Steve’s asscheeks. “And then. Ohh, and then.” Bucky licked his lips again, but unconsciously this time, avid gaze cast down where Steve could feel him slip his warm right hand in between his cheeks to circle Steve’s asshole. Steve gasped and spread his legs wide, his cock twitching.

“Here,” Bucky said conversationally, but Steve could hear the edge, how he was just barely holding himself together, “you’re the same and different all at once. Same pretty little hole, so fresh and clean for me, but - and I just dunno how this is _possible_ \- _somehow_ , I’d swear having something in you makes you go more wild than ever.” The whole time he talked, he rubbed around the ring of muscle, with the occasional gentle push - not trying to get in, just pressing on him.

Steve couldn’t take it; he felt like the top of his head was going to explode. “So p-put something in me already,” he begged, sticking his ass out, and he couldn’t see behind him but he could see what he looked like from the front, halfway to bent over like something out an eight-pager, like he was desperate for it. Which he was. His cock drooled out a blurt of precome.

Bucky’s eyes bulged. Without another word he dropped to his knees and buried his face in Steve’s ass, shoving his tongue into Steve’s hole. Steve let his forehead fall against the mirror and groaned so loudly it echoed in the rest of the apartment.

Bucky ate Steve out with a singular focus, tongue flickering in and out, then swirling around his opening, then laving the whole area with broad strokes before diving in again. Everything he did sent warm shock waves through Steve's body, until he felt like his blood had turned to honey, every part of him feeling slow and thick and confused in the best way, nerves overloaded with pleasure. Distantly he could hear his own voice, frantic moans that shaded into wails whenever Bucky scraped his rim oh-so-gently with his teeth.

It was almost getting to be too much, Steve's teeth were starting to chatter, when Bucky took Steve's cock in a firm, sure, metallic grip and slid two fingers in past his tongue at the same time. It was over in three strokes, Steve screaming and shooting off so hard he splattered the mirror, ass clutching at Bucky's fingers where they tenderly rubbed Steve's sweet spot.

As soon as he could move, Steve staggered back a step and folded to his knees and elbows, leaving his upturned ass - sloppy with saliva, Steve could feel it cooling on his skin from his balls to the small of his back - facing Bucky. He turned his head to look back at his friend.

Bucky looked as wrecked as if he was the one who just got expertly taken apart. He didn’t flush like Steve, but the two spots on his cheeks were bright red. One hand was squeezing his cock like he was trying not to come right this instant. His abdomen was heaving and his nostrils were flared. "Baby," he rasped, "babydoll, you're too gorgeous to be real."

Steve laughed and wiggled his ass like a showgirl. "C'mon and fuck me for seconds, see how real I am."

Bucky groaned and clenched his hand again. "I will, darlin', my hand to God, just gimme a sec or this ain't gonna last long."

"Whenever you're ready," Steve said amiably. He felt fantastic, his pleasure banked and waiting to flare right up again as soon as Bucky touched him. Bucky didn't need to worry about lasting _very_ long.

As Steve watched Bucky get his breathing under control, it occurred to him that Bucky had quite effectively derailed a conversation about his body, by letting Steve turn it around onto himself and then turning things sexy. Steve was so easy for Bucky; he played right into his hands. He was too relaxed right now to be properly cheesed about it, but he was thinking.

He kept thinking, with difficulty, while Bucky slid both his thumbs into Steve's loose, wet hole and said, half-despairing, "Peach, you're a damn _peach_ , love," and, "you ready?"

" _Yes_ , Bucky, come _on_ \- ohh, yeah," Steve moaned gratefully as Bucky finally sank into him with a few slow thrusts and a mutter of "Holy Mary, Mother of God." He set up a steady, relentless rhythm, rocking Steve back to meet him. "The hell you can't dance, doll, you move so fine, so good for me."

Steve found his gaze drawn back to the mirror, saw his own half-closed eyes and fallen-open, gasping mouth, his whole body curved up and open to Bucky. Bucky looked pretty far gone, gaze focused on where he was sliding in and out of Steve's ass, beads of sweat standing out on his skin.

Steve blurted out, "Bucky, look," and motioned to the mirror, made sure Bucky saw Steve's face, his body. He said, "You do this - to me. You're - you’re good for me too." Words didn't come easy to him, like this, but he thought he got his point across when Bucky tightened his hold on Steve's hips and slammed into him raggedly, coming with a hoarse, incoherent cry. Steve was already riding so high that the sight and feel of Bucky losing control was enough to set him off a second time.

Bucky slumped as he came down, hugging Steve's waist. Steve could feel Bucky's cock pulsing gently inside him, and his own muscles fluttering weakly. Fading echoes.

"Stevie?" Bucky mumbled between Steve's shoulder blades.

"Yeah?"

"You're doing fine."

"Huh?"

"At taking care of me. You're doing fine."

Steve's head was still in a place such that the praise got under his skin where he could halfway believe it. "You too, Buck. Always."

"Mmph." Bucky rolled his face on Steve's back, an exhausted nuzzle. Probably Steve's words wouldn't do much, but maybe they'd do something. And he was sure both of them had created a few new memories for the next time they looked in a mirror.

* * *

Natasha showed up ten days later, having grown bored of yachting around the Mediterranean. She had an adorable spray of freckles in lieu of a tan, and she brought horrible, tacky tchotchkes for everyone. Bucky, Steve, and Sam received little glazed porcelain amphorae, each painted with a scene praising the unknown arsonists who burnt down Giotopoulos Indoor Hall in Athens.

"It was an eyesore and an embarrassment to the community," she explained, "with it gone, they can build something less useless on the land."

"Bucky, man. They never even found the meth lab evidence you planted!" mourned Sam.

Bucky and Natasha had a long, tense conversation in Russian that ended with Natasha snapping, "Well, if you _hadn't_ taught me, someone inferior _would_ have, and I would be dead! So, since we were both stuck there anyway, I'm glad it was you." She glared at Bucky, and hell if Steve didn't recognize it as a look straight out of Bucky's own repertoire of exasperated faces he'd been aiming at Steve since they were kids.

It worked better on Bucky than it ever had on Steve. He'd already mostly given up on his bad mood when Clint clicked his tongue at Natasha, and she turned her head straight so he could resume braiding her hair from where he was perched behind her on the back of the couch. Bucky watched with interest.

"You're really good at that," he commented.

Clint shrugged. "Used to do hair and makeup in the circus."

Bucky shook his head. His hair was especially fluffy today, slipping out of its ponytail and drifting into his face. "Think you can do anything with this mop?"

Clint looked at Bucky, tucking the eight sections of Natasha's hair invisibly into the elaborate design. "You'd want something you can do yourself later."

Which is how Bucky wound up learning to put his hair up in a bun. It was kind of messy when he did it himself, but the strands didn't escape. Steve thought it was very fetching.

Natasha got Bucky to team up with her for Sunday dinner. Their first dish was syrniki: sweet, cheesy pancakes. They made tons, but there were no leftovers.

* * *

A couple of weeks after that, Clint was holed up in their spare bedroom, under strict orders from Natasha not to show his face outside Avengers Tower (at ground level, anyway) until she and someone named Kate (who was also Hawkeye? Clint's life was confusing) had dealt with some "tracksuited thugs". He had his own suite, but A) he barely set foot in it, and B) Steve and Bucky were designated his babysitters, also by Natasha.

Sam said it best: “It’s Natasha’s world. We’re all just living in it.”

Clint and Bucky were sprawled on their stomachs on the rug, playing some kind of first-person shooter video game. Well, more completely breaking the game, mocking both the design and the lamentations of the other players. Steve knew better than to join them by now, so he was idly browsing on his tablet. A huge order of Thai food was on its way.

“Thought you were big on cooking from scratch now, Barnes.”

"I'm taking the day off."

"I dunno why you bother anyway. Look at me, I was raised on cotton candy and corn dogs. My dog lives on pizza. We're fine!"

"Can't get huge on takeout alone."

"You wouldn't need to if you didn't sacrifice the high ground at the first opportunity to break faces." Safe on his digital perch, Clint picked off a half-dozen avatars. Angry voices cursed over chat; the volume was low enough to keep the complaints to white noise, certainly not enough to drown out the door buzzer.

"I'll get it." Bucky jumped to his feet, and stilled for a moment, blinking in surprise.

"You okay?" Steve said, putting down his tablet.

"Yeah - fine. Be right back." Bucky went to meet the Stark Industries guard (delivery people weren't permitted on the residential floors), and when he came back there were noodles to be distributed. Clint's phone rang shortly after that, and he took his bowl into the spare bedroom, saying, "Yes, Natasha," and, "Okay, this looks bad." He shut the door behind him.

Steve nudged Bucky. "What was that, when you got up to get the door?"

Mouth full, Bucky said, "Oh," chewed and swallowed, then said, "I didn't grey out. Can't remember the last time that didn't happen, at least a little, after being laid out and then getting up fast."

"You never said anything."

"Wasn't a problem, and I was so used to it I didn't even think about it. I only noticed-"

"-once it was gone," Steve finished for him. He remembered stepping out of Erskine's capsule, and being staggered by the sheer number of things that _didn't hurt_ \- way more than he would previously have listed even to himself.

"You notice anything else like that?"

"Yeah, actually. I think I pretty much always used to have a low-grade stomachache, too." Bucky twirled up another forkful of pad thai and scarfed it down with a hum of pleasure.

Steve frowned. "I'm starting to doubt that HYDRA was feeding you as much as you needed."

Bucky shrugged. "It's possible. Logical, even. I always shoot slightly better if I'm just a tad hungry. And it would have given me extra incentive to return to base, and comply once I got there." He looked at Steve's 'trying not to look horrified' face. "Steve. I'm way more upset about being forced to kill people and getting my brain microwaved all the time. I'm running kinda low on fucks to give, here."

Steve took a deep breath. "Okay. Pass me that fish thing?"

Bucky's chest puffed out indignantly. "Fish thing? There are like four 'fish things' on this table, Rogers, cherished traditional recipes all-"

"-and I'm going to eat them all, starting with whichever's closest, so hand it over." Steve tried not to smile too wide; he could do misdirection, too. He just hoped it didn't cost him a helping of pla pao.

It wasn't until the next morning that Bucky discovered Clint reprogrammed the alarms in Bucky's phone - all of which used to say "Eat Something, Jackass" - to read “Breakfast”, “Second Breakfast”, “Elevenses”, “Luncheon”, “Afternoon Tea”, “Dinner”, and “Supper”. When Steve and Bucky didn't get the reference, they found themselves roped into a movie marathon.

* * *

Steve and Bucky both spent a lot of time working out. Steve knew, for himself, that if he didn't take his body through its paces each day, his muscles would twitch with a kind of churning misery until he did. It seemed to be a side effect of the serum's gift of almost violent good health. Judging by how much more settled Bucky always seemed after running hard or lifting heavy until he almost collapsed, Steve would guess it was the same for him. Of course, Bucky also had the additional motivator of needing to regain muscle. He made progress with that extremely rapidly once he was getting enough calories.

One day, Bucky was doing one-armed lifts while Steve and Sam tackled a new arrangement on the vertical obstacle course, when Bucky yelled, "Hey, Steve, what's your maximum for these?"

Steve called out the number, to which Sam muttered, "Showoff." He said this while doing a mid-air somersault through three moving hoops, each with about an inch clearance on either side of the folded wings, so Steve didn't take him too seriously.

"I'm fifty pounds over that!" Bucky bragged.

"Bucky, your left arm can lift more than twice that."

"No, with my right!"

Steve descended to see for himself. Sure enough, Bucky was lifting well over Steve's maximum with his right arm. He smirked knowingly when Steve shouted towards the obstacle course, "Sam, I gotta hit the showers."

"I need to take a spin outside, so I'll be a good half-hour still."

"Catch you later."

In the shower, Bucky crowded Steve up against the wall, deep, drugging kisses making his head swim as much as the steam around them. "You liked it, didn't you, doll? You liked what you saw out there?"

Steve thumped his head back against the slippery tile. "I did," he breathed. Bucky's strength, the awareness of his physical power and his willingness to use it for Steve, had thrilled him since he and Bucky first came together so long ago. Now he remembered the effect was even greater when Bucky was stronger than him.

"You'd still be my pretty little babydoll if you got as big as the Hulk and I got as skinny as you used to be," Bucky assured him, "but I won't deny there's perks to the current situation, like being able to do _this_." He reached down behind Steve's knees and swept them up in his right arm, bracing them against Steve's shoulders and Steve's whole body against the wall. His hold was steady as a rock. Steve almost came then and there.

Bucky looked smug. "Call it a premonition: I had a feeling today was going to go this way." He brandished a little tube of waterproof lubricant. "Stashed this in here earlier." One-handed, he worked it onto his metal fingers, then worked a finger slowly into Steve's hole.

"Bucky!" Steve gasped. He could barely do anything with his hands besides grip Bucky's shoulders like his life depended on it. The strain of the position made him bear down on the intrusion in his ass, feeling the hardness and the texture of the metal more acutely than he usually did.

He wiggled in Bucky's tight hold and craned his neck back. Bucky leaned up on his tiptoes to chase Steve's mouth, licking at his lips until Steve got the hint and sucked Bucky's tongue inside. He was rewarded with a second finger, and moaned wantonly around Bucky's tongue. Bucky's fingers burned as they sank to their full depth and stroked into his sweet spot. Steve let go of Bucky's tongue to cry out, the echoes of his voice in the tiled room sounding weirdly high and fragile.

"I've got you, Stevie, I'm here," Bucky crooned, surrounding Steve and holding him up, holding him bent to feel Bucky's touch so deep inside. "You're so sweet for me, so good, can't get enough of you, my sweet pretty babydoll."

It should have been embarrassing. It _was_ embarrassing. Steve lived the first twenty-five years of his life fighting like a wildcat at even the suspicion of such words in anyone else's mind, but in Bucky's filthy, beloved mouth the words became lush, unbearably erotic, unlocking something inside Steve no other person would even have dreamed existed, much less could ever have hoped to reach.

Steve clung to Bucky's shoulders, feeling his orgasm start to crash over him in waves, pulled out of him by Bucky's clever fingers, spilling from his cock, and pouring from his mouth into Bucky's as a wild yell. He wasn't quite done coming when Bucky set his feet back down in order to wrap his arms around Steve and press their bodies flush together. Bucky was trembling, rutting into the crease of Steve's hip, and Steve could only return the embrace, completely overwhelmed.

"Steve, God, ff-fuck, I-" Bucky stuttered, sounding desperate. Steve sealed their mouths together and gave Bucky his tongue, and Bucky jerked in his arms and came, shaking, slippery. His come jetting against Steve's belly felt hotter than the water of the shower around them. When he finished, he buried his face in Steve's neck. Steve leaned his head against Bucky's and stroked his back, feeling the thickening muscles all over.

When they were both steadier, Steve said, "We stay in here much longer, we're gonna turn into two big pink raisins and a pile of rust."

* * *

Steve went looking for Bucky, and found him down in Tony's workshop, experimenting with smoothie recipes with Tony's robots. Tony, for once, was not complaining about their laziness and disloyalty; he was too busy talking excitedly with Bruce. Steve got the impression they were barely holding themselves back from jumping up and down like little kids.

"What's all that about?" Steve asked Bucky.

Bucky dipped a finger in the blender and then in his mouth, frowned, and added a tiny pinch of salt to the muddy slop. "Thor's coming."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that; I think you'll like Thor. But there's gotta be something more to it for those two to be so worked up."

"His girlfriend is coming with him."

"The Lady Jane?" That's what Thor always called her.

"'Lady Jane' is none other than _Doctor. Jane. Foster_!" Tony shouted at them.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and shrugged.

"Oh my God, she's _only_ the foremost astrophysicist of our time."

"Criminally under-published," sighed Bruce.

"I've been trying to recruit her for years!"

"She's _been_ to _Asgard_."

"What floor do you think she'll want for her lab? What'll she want in it? You do more astrophysics than me."

"Not her kind. I think we should just let her pick..." Bruce and Tony walked off together, deep in discussion.

Bucky poured the smoothie into two glasses. "I do know that name, actually. Three scientists quit working for HYDRA after one of her papers came out."

"How come they never pointed you at her? Or them?"

"Oh, these were top-shelf brains. They faked their own deaths. I was the only one who noticed, and nobody asked me." Bucky handed a glass to Steve. The smoothie tasted like cake batter.

The new arrivals showed up in time for Sunday dinner. Dr. Foster turned out to be a lovely person: tiny (but then everyone looked tiny next to Thor) and a little distracted by her own thoughts at times, but very warm and kind. Steve could see why Thor looked at her as if she hung the moon.

"That is not how planets work, friend Steven!" Thor teased when Steve told him as much, then quickly sobered. "But it is no idiom when I say that your moon, and sun, and indeed all the stars in all the Nine Realms, are still shining today thanks to her actions during the Convergence." He looked sad for a moment, then shook himself and said, "But come! I am told that you have brought two warriors to join us, your friend and your lover! I wish to meet them!"

Thor was delighted to learn that Sam was another flier, and extracted promises to meet and plan new team strategies, and "to share the tale of how your excellent cooking persuaded the Soldier of Winter to take comfort once again" with a jovial smoothness that left Sam looking a little dazed, and reminded Steve that Thor had been royalty for hundreds of years.

Steve was relieved when Thor neither boomed nor hustled quite so much at Bucky, though his relief quickly gave way when Thor looked between them and pronounced, "On Asgard, the tale of your love, the dangers it led you into, and the great evils it led you to overcome, would be the subject of a hundred songs." He complimented Bucky on the very fine craftsmanship of his arm and his taste in hairstyles, and breezed off to mingle with the rest of the gathering as if Steve and Bucky weren't blinking at each other, bowled-over.

"So," said Bucky at last, "that's Thor."

"Yeah."

"Centuries-old alien prince."

"Mm-hm."

Bucky smiled. "You were right. I do like him."

* * *

Sometimes Bucky's progress snuck up on Steve. One morning Steve found him up early, watching the sunrise, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee and a stack of buttered raisin toast. When Steve sidled up beside him he turned in to Steve's arms, sleep-warm and sweet-mouthed. Steve went for a butt-squeeze, and found his hands distinctly fuller than expected. He made a curious grunt and groped more thoroughly, and yeah, under the spider-print fleece pyjama pants (tiny black widows), Bucky's ass was definitely rounder and squishier than it used to be.

Bucky had both hands on Steve's chest and was leaning back enough to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, Rogers. I, too, have an ass."

"You sure do," Steve enthused, "and I think it's benefitting from all your hard work." He kneaded the warm, firm flesh in his hands. "Come back to bed?"

Bucky smirked. "What's in it for me?"

"Inexpert topping?" Steve offered, looking down and blushing. That look was one of his few real 'moves', but the effect was perhaps spoiled by the fact that he still had both hands on Bucky's ass and, in fact, just offered to fuck it. "If you - if you want."

Bucky laughed. "Well, when you put it like that." He gestured to the bedroom. "Lead on, Captain."

Steve walked backwards, pulling Bucky along with his hands still on his butt, enchanted with the feel of him, kissing the amused curve of Bucky's lips.

"What's got into you, doll?" Bucky said when Steve pulled him down onto the bed and then flipped him over onto his front.

"You, last night," Steve shot back. It was true; he could still feel traces of lube in his crack. But - he draped himself over Bucky's back, grinding against Bucky's ass. "I dunno, I just all of a sudden really want to give your ass some attention. Like it's callin' my name, Buck."

"Mmm, I know the feelin', sweet cheeks," and even without seeing Bucky's face Steve knew he was leering. "Don't know how I get anything else done with your perky buns around." He humped the mattress once, his voice going low and hot. "And don't get me started on your pink little hole, and how hungry it is for me, babydoll, how much you love taking it-"

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve interrupted, scarlet-faced, "you're gonna change my mind here! _Would_ you rather do it the other way 'round?"

Bucky thought for a second, then shook his head. "Nah, baby, I'm just running my mouth. You doing me sounds real nice." He started to wriggle out of his pyjama pants. Steve helped him, then sat back on his knees and _looked_.

"You're a work of art, Buck." Bucky had definitely succeeded in putting on weight. There was more definition to the muscles of his back, and his ribs and the bumps of his spine were no longer visible. And his ass - well. Steve reached out and grasped it, marveling at the way his fingers dented the relaxed muscles under their modest layer of padding. He pried Bucky's cheeks apart and peeked at his tightly-furled hole. Bucky squirmed suddenly.

"Touch me, Stevie. I'm gettin' cold, here." His voice was embarrassed, needy in a way it usually wasn't. Steve rubbed a soothing hand over Bucky's lower back, and reached over to the nightstand for the lube. He coated his fingers and started to rub at Bucky's hole, circling it gently the way Bucky did for him. Bucky sighed with relief.

"I know that move." He sounded pleased.

"Learned from the best." The puckered little muscle, which tensed at Steve's first touch, started to soften. Steve dipped the tip of one finger in and rubbed a little more from the inside, watching the way the flesh stretched and clung as he moved his finger.

"Do you remember the first time we did this?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Stevie, I remember. I made you do me first." Bucky's voice was dreamy, distracted. Steve sank his finger in to the third knuckle almost without trying.

"I wanted you in me so bad, knew it was going to be-"

"-incredible, knew you'd be lightning in a bottle, doll, just my fingers and tongue made you come completely unglued. But you were so _tiny_ , baby boy, I just _couldn't_ -"

"-but I had the bigger dick, so if mine didn't hurt you, you'd let me have yours." Steve added a second finger, twisted them as he slid in and out of Bucky, scissored them inside of him. Bucky was hot and soft around his fingers, growing slippery with lube as Steve stroked it into him. "Does it hurt now?"

"Nah. Burns a little, stretching - I don't get as much practice as you, love. You're doing real good though, babe, opening me up so nice." Bucky wasn't squirming now so much as writhing in response to Steve's touches. It was slow, languorous, Bucky clearly awash in sensation.

Steve, now. Steve did not feel languorous. He stared at Bucky's round, flexing ass, with its slick opening grasping at his fingers, and felt _ravenous_.

"C'mon, doll, gimme another." Bucky moaned appreciatively when Steve complied, sinking three fingers deep. He reached, feeling for the sweet spot, and knew he'd found it when Bucky jerked. " _That's_ my boy!"

Steve rubbed the pads of his fingers over that spot every couple of strokes, watching Bucky's excitement ratchet up each time, his patter turning more urgent and nonsensical. Eventually Bucky gasped, "Baby, either get in me or finish me off, I'm dying here." When Steve pulled his fingers out and started spreading lube on his cock, Bucky rolled onto his back.

"You sure, Buck? It's easier the other way."

"Easy, hell. This is a blue moon event here, darlin'. You think I'm gonna pass up the chance to watch your pretty doll face while you fuck me, you got another think coming." He winked and let his legs fall open, loose and bouncy except for his cock, which was so hard Bucky's pulse made it quiver slightly.

Steve hoisted one of Bucky's legs onto his shoulder, turned his head to kiss his knee. He took a deep breath, lined himself up, and started to rock in nice and slow, easing back and then a little deeper each time. He kept his eyes locked on Bucky's face.

"How is it?" Steve ground out, straining to be careful when Bucky was tight and damp and surrounding him more with each thrust.

Bucky's expression was soft, vulnerable, amazed. The smooth roll of his sex-talk was actually being impeded by stutters and moans as Steve moved. "Mmm, hah. It's - _ohh_ \- it's good, you're so good, baby, you're filling me up just - ah! - just right. Little more, little faster, c'mon."

He was maybe an inch from bottoming out when a flicker of discomfort crossed Bucky's face. Steve stopped instantly, and lowered Bucky's leg back down to the bed, feet braced so he could control how deep Steve went with his thighs. "Don't let me go any deeper than this, okay?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, and quick as anything wrapped both legs around Steve's waist and _yanked_ Steve the rest of the way in. He grunted, sounding both pained and pleased with himself. "What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of you being a punk."

Steve glared. "I'm _trying_ to make it good for you, you jerk!" Bucky's move had pulled Steve down to support his weight on his hands, either side of Bucky's head. It was a good pose for staring Bucky down, but Bucky was having none of it.

"It's _good_ , you did _good_ , now I want you to _move_ , baby." Bucky tightened his grip, lifted his hips and ground Steve _into himself_ , groaning happily. "C'mon, use that gorgeous cock of yours and make me forget my name."

Even irritated, Steve almost didn't say it. Almost. "What, again?"

Bucky gaped at him, then dissolved into spluttering laughter. The feeling of being balls-deep in him while he shook was too much for Steve, and he started to wiggle his hips as much as he could with Bucky still locking him in.

Finally Bucky got some semblance of a hold on himself, and crowed, "Ladies and gentlemen-"

"Don't see neither of those in here," Steve grumbled, trying to prod Bucky's prostate while already being lodged past it.

"-the undefeated heavyweight champion of sass: Steve Rogers!" Bucky pumped a fist in the air, giggling, and finally relaxed his legs and let Steve move.

"Should have known you'd still wind up topping somehow," Steve said, giving Bucky the long, deep thrusts he'd been asking for.

"Price of - hnngh! - my fella being the sweetest bottom around. Oh, oh yeah, right there, darlin', give it to me just like that, _yeah_!" Bucky arched up and gave Steve a hard, desperate kiss, their teeth clicking together.

Steve could feel his orgasm coiling tightly in the small of his back. "I gotta slow down or I'm gonna come," he warned.

"So come, sweetheart. You got - mmph! - you got at least - at least one more in the chamber, don'tcha?"

"That's true." Steve bent his head and kissed Bucky deeply, shoving his tongue inside in time with his thrusts. Inside Bucky. He moaned into the kiss as his orgasm rushed over him, pressing into Bucky's body like he was trying to crawl inside his skin.

"Attaboy," Bucky panted, "love watching you do that."

Steve groaned and started fucking Bucky again. There were some incredibly filthy squelching noises coming from where they were joined as Steve's come leaked out and got everywhere.

"Listen to that, you're making me - hha! - all sloppy, babydoll." Bucky lifted his hips to meet Steve on every instroke, giving as good as he got. His hands were on Steve's chest, kneading his pecs and tweaking his nipples with rapidly-fraying coordination.

Steve grinned. "Think I can get you sloppier." He reached down and took Bucky's cock in hand.

"Oh, baby, yeah, mess me up - ah!" Bucky went rigid all over as he came, legs splaying out, hands clutching at Steve's chest. Come jetted almost up to his chin.

Steve looked down at Bucky's torso - gleaming with sweat, streaked with come. He pulled out and jerked himself roughly until he added to the mess. He collapsed onto one hand, and with the other signed his initials in one of the puddles near Bucky's hipbone. Then he fell the rest of the way to Bucky's side.

"Like I said," he panted, "work of art."

Bucky scoffed and swatted him feebly on the head; it turned into carding his fingers through Steve's hair.

* * *

One morning, Steve walked in to find Bucky inspecting himself naked in the mirror again. It'd been a few months since the last time this happened, but not so long that Steve didn't blush remembering what they did next.

Bucky looked a lot healthier now - his muscles bulged and rippled under his sleek skin as he turned and twisted, not posing, just looking at himself. His subtly rounded belly and buttocks added a solidity, a groundedness to his posture where before he always seemed to be perched on his feet, ready to fight or flee. Best of all, Bucky had a small, pleased smile on his face as he looked at himself.

"You look good," Steve said, leaning in the doorway, ogling as obviously as he could. Truth be told it was taking everything he had not to just walk over there and start humping Bucky's leg, but he was no stranger to restraining that urge around Bucky.

"I really do," Bucky said slowly.

"Have you decided what shape you want to end up in?"

"You're looking at it. I pushed really hard in the gym and on the run today, added a few jumps from I'm not even going to tell you how high, and I don't have so much as a twinge. No more problems carrying my arm."

"That's great, Buck."

"It is." Bucky faced himself head-on, then turned to the side. "I kinda- I kinda look like my Pop, don't you think?"

"A bit, yeah," Steve mused, trying to sound encouraging. Privately, he didn’t see it at all. George Barnes was as big as a house in all directions, and by his own account was so his whole life. Bucky probably couldn't attain his size if he tried. But it was almost certainly a positive association. Bucky's father was as warm and safe as a house besides, and always moved with tremendous gentleness and care, in the way of men who are very large and very kind. Steve was the only person alive who knew Bucky got his tender heart from his Pop, and all his fighting spirit from his Ma.

Steve came up behind Bucky and wound his arms around his waist, looking at the two of them in the mirror. He saw Bucky: happy, strong, and healthy, the thickening of his body visible proof of how he was accepting love and care. He saw himself, getting to live with Bucky in their home, surrounded by their friends.

"Mostly I think you look like you, but stick around so's I can keep checking, okay?"

Bucky pulled Steve's hand up and kissed it. "You got it, babe."

 


End file.
